


Putting Something Together From the Shards of What Was Before

by mithrel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blanket Permission, M/M, Other, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-19
Updated: 2009-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 09:15:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hadn’t had to kill Sam, hadn’t had to say yes to Michael and destroy himself in the process.  He’s alive, and Sam’s alive, and Cas is alive, although he can’t say much more than that right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Putting Something Together From the Shards of What Was Before

The three of them limp back to the motel. They’d done it. They’d killed Lucifer and stopped the Apocalypse.

_They’d finally located the Colt, thanks to Becky’s tip. They’d summoned Crowley (who apparently had read Gaiman) into the strongest Devil’s Trap the three of them could make, and forced him to tell them where he’d hidden the Colt before Castiel banished him._

_Then they had to go to the Santa Rita Mine in New Mexico, and if Dean never had to sneak into an active mine at night again it would be too soon, especially since it was an open pit mine, so they had to rappel down the side. In the dark. The bastard had angel-proofed the place, so Cas had to stay and keep watch outside._

_Once they had the Colt, they went after Lucifer._

_None too soon, since Lucifer decided he was tired of skirmishing and made his move. They’d tracked him to a small town in Georgia, where he’d gathered an army._

_It was a nightmare. Lucifer, Meg, Uriel and Ruby back again,_ dammit. _Them and a bunch of other demons and a few angels on one side, Zachariah, Anna, and the rest of the angels on the other, and him, Sam and Cas in the middle. As if he didn’t have enough fodder for nightmares already._

_He lost track of Sam and Cas almost immediately, fighting his way through the throng toward Lucifer._

_He passed Zachariah, who was going up against Meg, trying to get close enough to kill her. She snarled, and slashed at him with her knife. He fell back, clutching his side, then closed with her again and she crumpled._

_He caught sight of Sam, about a dozen feet away, squaring off against Ruby with her own knife._

_She smirked at him. “Resorting to pig-stickers, Sammy? You’re losing your touch.”_

_He grabbed her by the shoulders as she struggled. “Don’t,” he plunged the knife in her side, “Call me Sammy.”_

_Dean ripped his attention from them, attempting to find a way to get a clear shot at Lucifer._

_Across the field, Anna was facing Uriel. Well, she’d killed him once, she could do it again. But as he watched Anna went down, her body limp. Dean turned around, forgetting Lucifer, fighting to get to Uriel and eviscerate the bastard, but Castiel got there first._

_“Uriel. You will pay for that.”_

_He smirked. “Castiel. You picked the wrong side.”_

_Castiel snarled and threw himself at Uriel. The two of them went down, rolling on the ground. There was a flash of light and Castiel cried out in pain, but kept fighting, rolling on top of Uriel. A moment later there was another flash, and Uriel went limp._

__“DEAN! What the hell are you doing?!” _Sam bellowed._

_Dean shook himself. He had the Colt–he was the only one who could kill Lucifer. He’d worry about everything else later._

_A demon loomed up in front of him, holding a wickedly curved knife at least six inches long. It got inside his guard and slashed at his leg._

_“Son of a_ bitch! _” Dean snarled, clubbing the demon over the head with the Colt. It crumpled, knocked out, and Dean looked around, ignoring the blood soaking his jeans._

_For one moment the tide of battle parted and he could see Lucifer across the field. Dean sighted, and took his shot._

_The bullet flew in seeming slow motion, and Dean held his breath. He only had one shot. They hadn’t had time to go to Bobby for more bullets. If he missed…_

_The bullet embedded itself in Lucifer’s chest, there was a flash, lightning flicked over his body and he fell unmoving to the ground._

_The demons panicked, smoke billowing out everywhere as they fled. The angels took care of those that didn’t flee their hosts fast enough._

_He ignored the rest of the battle, running over to check on Castiel. Sam was standing next to him, where he’d been guarding his back. The angel was glassy-eyed, with a classic thousand-yard stare._

_“What happened?” Dean demanded._

_“Jimmy is gone,” Castiel said hollowly._

_“‘Gone’? What do you mean_ gone? _”_

_“Uriel killed him.”_

_Dean winced. God only knew the trouble that would cause._

_“Sammy, you OK?”_

_“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. You?”_

_“Bastard got my leg.” He looked around, to find both the demons and angels gone. “Figures they’d skip out without seeing if we needed help. Let’s get back to the motel.”_

It hasn’t sunk in yet that it’s actually _over_ and they’re all alive. He hadn’t had to kill Sam, hadn’t had to say yes to Michael and destroy himself in the process. He’s alive, and Sam’s alive, and Cas is alive, although he can’t say much more than that right now. None of them are in any shape to walk; Castiel’s shell-shocked, Dean’s leg is soaked with blood, and Sam’s limping.

They somehow make it back to the room. Sam collapses on one bed, Dean on the other. “Cas, get the small black bag and bring it over here,” Dean says as he clears off the bedside table.

The angel blinks, shaking himself, but goes and picks up the bag and gives it to him. Dean rummages in it, laying what he needs on the table. Isopropyl alcohol, needle and thread, sewing scissors, gauze pads, bandages, painkillers. “Fill up a glass of water, would ya?”

Castiel nods, his eyes still haunted, and disappears into the bathroom. Dean looks down at his thigh, seeping blood from a bone-deep gash. He tries to get out of his jeans, but can’t.

“Do you need assistance?” Castiel asks, coming back from the bathroom and setting down the glass.

“What the fuck do you think?” Dean snaps reflexively, then winces at the hurt in the angel’s eyes. “Sorry. Yeah, I need to get out of these.” Dean shoots a glance at Sam. He’s semiconscious at best. It’s quite possible he’s got a concussion, but Dean has to sew himself up before he does anything else or he’ll bleed out.

Castiel helps him out of the shredded jeans and Dean stares at his leg. Another inch to the left and it would have severed an artery. “Can you fix this?” It would be a lot easier, not to mention less painful, if the angel could just wave a hand and heal him.

Castiel shakes his head. “I do not believe so. My grace has been largely exhausted, although I am no longer cut off from Heaven.”

“Great, just great.” Dean sterilizes the needle with the alcohol, threads it, and, cursing under his breath, begins to sew the wound shut. He can’t even take any painkillers until he makes sure Sam’s alright.

The gash in his leg is the worst. He has a shallow scalp wound, and bruises all over him. He knows what broken ribs feel like, and his aren’t, but bruised ribs actually hurt more.

When he finishes bandaging his leg he goes to check on Sam. “Sammy, you OK?”

“Oh sure. That was just a pleasant workout.”

Well, if he’s being sarcastic he can’t be too bad off. “Sit up.”

Sam does. Dean looks at his eyes. One pupil is larger than the other. “You’ve got a concussion.”

“That’s all I need,” Sam mutters, attempting to rub his head. “Ow, dammit!”

“What?” Dean demands.

“My shoulder’s dislocated.”

Dean sighs. He walks back over to the table, shakes out two oxycodone and hands them to Sam. “Take those.”

Sam accepts the pills with his left hand and puts them in his mouth. Dean hands him the glass of water and he swallows them. “Stand up.”

Sam does, and Dean stands behind him. “On three.”

“I pulled that trick on you, I’m not falling for it!”

“Just hold still will you?” Dean snaps. He takes hold of Sam’s shoulder and pops it back into place.

“Son of a _bitch!_ ” Sam screams, collapsing against him.

Dean winces. “Sorry.”

“I think my ankle’s sprained,” Sam mutters as he straightens up.

Dean sighs. “Great.”

Dean pulls off Sam’s sneakers, and sure enough, the right ankle is twice the size of the left. “Cas, get some ice would ya?” He hates asking Cas to do everything, especially given what happened to Jimmy, but he’s the only one not physically hurt, and of all of them is the least likely to attract attention by going outside.

“Of course.”

Once Castiel’s gone, Dean strips off the rest of his torn and bloody clothing, stuffing it into a bag to get rid of later, pulling on pajamas, then takes off Sam’s clothing, most of which is still salvageable, and gets him into pajamas as well, being as careful of his shoulder as he can.

By that time Cas is back with the ice. Sam makes up a makeshift icepack and puts it on his ankle. Dean makes another one. “Put it on your head.

Sam nods.

Dean looks around, trying to think if he’s missed anything. Wounds treated and cleaned? Check. Clothes changed? Check. Bloody clothes disposed of? Check. Or, OK, not, but he’ll burn them tomorrow. Painkillers administered? Well, Cas doesn’t need them and Sam’s already had some. It’s not a good idea for Sam to sleep with a concussion, which means that Dean won’t either. He sighs.

“You shouldn’t sleep with a concussion.”

Sam grimaces. “Yeah, I know.”

“Cas, you sticking around for awhile?”

The angel nods. “Given all that has happened I believe it would be advisable.”

“OK, so get some sleep. I’ll wake you up later. You’ll need to keep Sam from falling asleep.”

“Very well.”

Castiel takes off his shoes and lies down on one of the beds.

“So we’re staying up all night?” Sam asks.

Dean shrugs. “You are anyway. Sorry.”

Sam snorts. “I bet you are. So what are we going to do all night?”

“Poker?”

***

Sam has gotten better at poker (he did manage to beat Patrick, after all), but Dean still wins most of the hands. He tries to ignore the pain in his leg. Sam looks like he wants to talk, but is keeping quiet because he knows Dean doesn’t want to.

Dean’s facing the beds, and he keeps shooting glances at Castiel.

“He’ll be fine, Dean,” Sam says after the fifth time.

“Will he? The soul of the body he’s inhabiting is _gone!_ He must have felt him die, someone he’s been with the entire time he’s been here. That’s bound to screw with him.”

Sam sighs. “Yeah, I know. But we’ll handle it.”

At midnight Dean shakes Cas awake, hating to do it when he knows Cas needs the sleep for more than physical recovery, but unable to stay awake any longer. “Hey, Cas.”

Castiel blinks and sits up. “What time is it?”

Dean shrugs. “Around midnight. I’m gonna crash for the rest of the night. Keep an eye on Sam, OK?”

Castiel nods and gets out of bed.

Dean finally takes two oxycodone and collapses on his bed. The last thing he hears before he falls asleep is, “I don’t suppose you play poker?"

***

When he wakes up he looks over to the table. There are cards scattered on it, but he can’t see Sam or Cas. He shoots a glance at the other bed and feels a reluctant smile tug his lips.

Sam and Castiel are sprawled on the bed, Sam’s head pillowed on Cas’ chest. Dean looks at him for a long moment, more innocent in sleep than he’s been since they were kids. His chest rises and falls slowly, so it seems he hasn’t come to any harm from sleeping with a concussion. Dean feels a pang of guilt at keeping him awake, but shoves it away.

Sam stays asleep, but Castiel stirs as he looks at them. “Dean?”

“Hey, Cas.”

“I am sorry. I was unable to remain awake.”

“Hey, both of you were exhausted. Don’t worry about it.” He pauses, not sure what to say. “You doing OK?”

Castiel sighs. “As well as can be expected. It is…strange…without Jimmy. I miss him.”

“Yeah, well, everyone’s lost people in this,” Dean says, remembering Anna. “If you need…anything, you know, to talk or…”

Castiel nods, then smiles suddenly. “Samuel taught me to play poker.”

Dean chokes. “He did _what?!_ ”

Sam groans, opening his eyes. “Dean, I don’t appreciate being woken up by shrieking when I have a concussion,” he mumbles, looking around. He blushes when he realizes the position he’s in. “It’s not what it looks like!” he says, scrambling up and then clutching his head. “Ow.”

“Easy there, tiger,” Dean smirks, deciding to be magnanimous and ignore the comment about shrieking. “Don’t hurt yourself. I know, you just crashed.” _Even if there weren’t only two beds, they both probably needed someone near them last night._ “And you taught him to play poker?” he asks, hooking a thumb at Castiel.

“It was either that or listen to him reminisce about his life.”

“What is wrong with that?” Castiel asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Well that depends,” Dean says. “Given the life you probably led, it would be boring as hell, pardon the expression.”

Castiel frowns, but doesn’t respond.

“What time is it?” Sam asks, rubbing his head.

Dean looks at the clock. “One-thirty. Damn.”

Sam shakes out a couple more oxycodone and dry-swallows them. “I need a shower.”

“Don’t fall and hurt your head more!” Dean snaps.

Sam flips him off.

“So,” Dean says to Castiel. “It’s over.”

The angel nods. “Yes.”

“You gonna leave now?” He hopes not. When he’d first met him Cas had been a dick with wings just like the rest of them, but he’d slowly grown more...well, human, for lack of a better word.

“Do you want me to?”

“No! But,” Dean pauses. “I mean…God…should be back now, shouldn’t he? And aren’t you on his black list right now? He probably wouldn’t appreciate you hanging around here, especially with Jimmy gone.” _And Heaven’s probably the only place he can get help._

Castiel’s shoulders twitch slightly. “Given my role in helping to end the Apocalypse I think He will understand.”

“Well, OK, if you think so.”

“I believe I am recovered enough to heal some of your wounds.”

Sam comes out of the bathroom in time to hear that, toweling his hair, another towel around his waist. “That’s good.”

“Fix Sam’s concussion,” Dean says immediately.

Castiel nods and approaches Sam. He puts his hand on Sam’s forehead, while Sam blushes again. He pulls back after a moment. “Done.”

“Now Dean’s leg,” Sam says, moving to the corner and rummaging in his duffel for clothes.

“It’s fine! He should fix your ankle,” Dean protests.

“Dean. My ankle’s sprained, and it’s a lot better today. Your leg was laid open to the bone. Fix it,” Sam says, addressing this last to Castiel.

“Fine,” Dean grumbles.

Castiel lays his hand on Dean’s thigh, and Dean can’t suppress a shiver. There’s a rush of warmth and the pain fades. “Thanks,” Dean mutters, face hot.

“Yeah, thanks Cas,” Sam says.

“You are welcome, Samuel.”

“It’s Sam,” Sam sighs, because he’s been through this a dozen times before.

“So, boys,” Dean says, shaking off his inexplicable embarrassment and rubbing his hands. “How about we get drunk?”

Sam’s eyes drift to the clock. “Dean, it’s the middle of the afternoon!”

“And we just ended the Apocalypse,” Dean shoots back. “I’d say that calls for some celebrating!”

Sam gives a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. But you two need to shower and change first.”

Dean shrugs. “Fair enough.”

“I have no other clothes,” Castiel points out.

“You can wear some of ours while we get ’em cleaned. Go shower.”

“Shower?” the angel repeats.

Dean rolls his eyes. “C’mon.”

He drags the angel into the bathroom and pulls back the curtain. “Shower. Faucet. Hot water, cold water. Adjust it to the right temperature and clean off. Towels in here.”

Castiel nods.

“And take your clothes off first!” Dean adds for good measure as he leaves.

***

They end up in a burger joint, since none of the bars are open yet and they haven’t had breakfast anyway. Castiel is wearing his own shoes, but a pair of Dean’s jeans and Sam’s hoodie with the sleeves rolled up.

“What can I get you?” the waitress asks.

“Bacon cheeseburger,” Dean says immediately. He’s too tired to flirt.

“BBQ burger,” Sam says when she turns to him.

“And you?”

Castiel puts down the menu. “I do not require–”

“He’ll have the mushroom burger,” Sam interrupts.

The waitress eyes the two of them curiously, then shrugs and notes it down. “Drinks?”

“Johnnie Walker, straight up, for all of us,” Dean says.

The waitress’ brow puckers in a frown, but she nods.

“Johnnie Walker, Dean?” Sam asks.

“What? We’re celebrating. Afraid you can’t handle it?”

“Bring it,” Sam snaps back. “I’ll drink you under the table!”

Dean laughs so hard his bruised ribs complain. “Sammy, dude, you get drunk off of two shots of tequila!”

“I do not!” Sam protests, but his ears are red.

Dean shrugs, still chuckling. “Well, we’ll see who’s still standing at the end of this.”

Castiel observes the interplay between them, then says, “I am still not certain what we are doing here.”

Dean shoots a look at Sam, and says, “You explain, I’m sick of doing it.”

“Like Dean said, Cas, we’re celebrating.”

“With food and alcohol?”

“Yes,” Sam says patiently. “With food and alcohol.”

“But I do not require food.”

“Look, I don’t know how this whole ‘vessel’ thing works, but you’re in a human body, with the original owner gone. _You_ may not need food, but _it_ does.”

“Very well. I will eat, but not imbibe alcohol.”

“Like hell you won’t!” Dean snaps, fed up. “We’re celebrating stopping the Apocalypse and you’re damned well drinking!”

Several of the other patrons turn to stare at them, and Sam slumps down in his chair, not that it does any good. Even slouched over he’s taller than most people in here. Dean smiles sweetly at them.

“I will not,” Castiel says.

“Don’t argue with him, Dean,” Sam sighs as the waitress gives them their drinks.

“Whatever,” Dean says, sipping his drink. He blows out a slow breath. “Damn, that’s good.”

Sam takes a cautious sip and raises his eyebrows, nodding.

Dean pushes the third drink toward Castiel. “Drink up, angel-boy!”

“I do not–”

“Cas,” Sam says wearily. “Either you drink it or he’ll never shut up.”

Castiel makes a face, but takes a drink, and promptly chokes.

Dean sighs, slapping him on the back. “Lightweights and teetotalers. What did I do to deserve this?”

***

When the waitress brings their food, Dean orders another three drinks, although Sam is only half done with his first, and Cas’ is untouched except for that first sip.

He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until confronted with food. He spends the next couple minutes concentrating on his burger. When he comes up for air he shoots a look at Sam and chokes on a laugh.

“What?” Sam demands.

“You’ve got…” Dean manages, pointing to his own cheek.

Sam frowns and reaches for a napkin, swabbing at his face, but keeps missing the barbecue sauce. After several moments of this he throws down the napkin in disgust.

Dean picks it up and wipes the barbecue sauce off Sam’s face, rather than leaning over and licking it off, as he suddenly wants to. _Stop it!_ he tells himself sternly. _You know better!_ Normally he’s able to keep those thoughts in his subconscious where they belong, but he’s been stressed lately.

Sam glares at him.

Shaking off the impulse to do things with his brother that will get him sent back to Hell, he looks over at Castiel. He hasn’t eaten anything, and Dean sighs. “Cas…”

The angel reluctantly picks up his burger and takes a small bite. His eyes widen. “This is good!”

Dean rolls his eyes. “It’s supposed to be, genius, people wouldn’t eat it otherwise!”

“I don’t know about that. Some people will eat anything,” Sam teases, slurring slightly as he finishes his first drink.

Dean glowers at him, then smirks at Sam’s slightly cross-eyed expression. “Doing OK there, Sammy?”

Sam glares at him again. “Fine,” he snaps, picking up his second drink.

Dean shrugs. “You’re falling behind, Cas.”

“I do not wish to imbibe alcohol.”

“You just stopped the freakin’ Apocalypse, for God’s sake, live a little!”

Castiel frowns at the name-taking, but picks up his drink. “You are a bad influence on me.”

“Damn straight.”

***

Three hours later they’re staggering back to the motel again, for a different reason this time. They’d switched from Johnnie Walker to Jack Daniel's and then moved on to tequila.

Dean’s attempting to sing “Ramble On,” but keeps forgetting the words, which Sam finds hysterical. Since Dean’s supporting him, Sam being nearly too drunk to stand, this causes some problems.

Castiel is on his other side, his head down, muttering to himself in some language Dean doesn’t recognize, probably Enochian or Aramaic or something. Hell, for all he knows it could be Romulan.

They get back to the hotel. Dean’s feeling too buzzed to want to do anything else for awhile. Sam almost misses the bed when he sits down. Dean rolls his eyes. “Lightweight.”

Sam scowls at him. “Am not.”

“I dare you to make it through a word with more than three syllables,” Dean says.

“Fuck off,” Sam mutters.

“I’d suggest we go get laid but–”

“I dun’ do whorehouses, Dean.”

“But even if you were in any shape to, you’d have trouble getting laid with that stick up your ass,” Dean continues. “Besides, I know better than to take _him_ to a whorehouse again,” he says, with a dark look at Castiel.

“Wha–?” Sam asks, staring at the angel, who’s slumped against the wall by the door.

“It was when you were gone. I tried to get him laid. It wasn’t pretty.”

“I merely told her–”

“Told her it wasn’t her fault her father left, yeah, I know,” Dean cuts him off. “You just don’t _say_ things like that to strangers, Cas, there’s such a thing as boundaries. The fact that it was true only freaked her out.”

“I thought she should know.”

Dean rolls his eyes and heaves a sigh. “Whatever.”

“ _Why_ were you trying to get him laid?” Sam asks suspiciously.

“Dean believed that since there was a high probability I would die within a short period it would be a good idea.”

“Wait, what?” Sam asks. “Why were you going to die?”

“We were attempting to trap Raphael to see if we could get information.”

“But that’s suicide!” Sam protests.

“Like he said,” Dean nods. “’Course, _I_ was fine, since I was _Michael’s vessel_.” His mouth twists at the thought.

“So you decided to get laid?” Sam asks Castiel, seeming more sober now that he has something to focus on.

“No.”

Sam sighs. “Dean…”

“Dude, I wasn’t gonna let him die a virgin!”

Sam’s eyes pop, then he mutters, “Wait, of course he would be...” He turns to the angel. “So you’ve never had sex?”

“No,” Castiel repeats defiantly.

Sam rubs a hand over his forehead. “So let me get this straight. Cas is a virgin, and you decided to get him laid before he died, even if he didn’t want to?”

“Basically, yeah,” Dean nods.

“You do know that there’s nothing wrong with being a virgin, don’t you? I mean, you got on Nancy’s case too!”

“Yeah, sure, but you should have sex at least _once_ in your life! I mean, I thought you were a monk, but Cas here makes you look like Don Juan!”

Sam snorts at him. “Ignore him, Cas. You don’t have to have sex if you don’t want to.”

“I never said I did not want to,” Castiel mutters. “I merely did not wish to engage in intercourse with someone who was paid for it. I wish to gain a lover on my own merit.”

“Yeah, most people do,” Sam says, with a significant look at Dean.

Dean scowls. It’s not like he goes to whorehouses that often, after all–he’s perfectly capable of picking up girls.

“So pick up a girl in a bar,” Dean suggests.

Sam glares at him, but Castiel only says, “I do not wish a…‘one night stand’…and any relationship I had with a human would be based on dishonesty. And I refuse to abuse a vessel in that manner.”

“OK, OK, you’ve made your point!” _Figures he’d be a romantic._

Castiel yawns suddenly, and Dean finds himself echoing it. None of them had gotten much sleep last night and the alcohol is catching up with them. The fact that it isn’t even six o’clock doesn’t matter.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m beat.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, rubbing his eyes and blinking rapidly.

They change into pajamas and Dean asks, “How are we going to work this?”

“You slept alone last night,” Sam points out.

“Yeah, I did. Cas, you can bunk with me tonight,” Dean says, patting the bed.

“Night, Dean,” Sam says, once they’re in bed.

“Night, Sam,” Dean replies. “Night, Cas.”

“Good night Dean. Good night, Samuel.”

“It’s Sam,” he sighs.

“Good night, Sam.”

“Night, Cas.”

It’s a good thing Dean’s drunk, hurt and exhausted, because Castiel snuggled against him is extremely distracting. The angel falls asleep quickly, but Dean can’t. He knows angels don’t feel the same way humans do, but Cas hasn’t even mentioned Jimmy except the once. If he were human he’d still be numb, in shock, and they’d have to deal with all that Kubler-Ross crap. As it is, Dean’s not sure what to expect.

He’s not sure when he started looking at Cas the same way he looked at Sam…well, all right, not exactly, but close. For all that he’s been around forever, Cas is…innocent, naïve. That sets off his protective instincts. Cas may be able to take care of himself if he’s not interacting with humans, but remembering when he and Cas interrogated the deputy about Raphael, he’s not sure whether to laugh or roll his eyes.

He sighs and presses a kiss to Castiel’s hair.

***

He’s woken up by the sound of someone crying. He blinks, realizing it’s Cas. The angel is thrashing around, tears running down his face.

Dean reaches out to him, only to be pushed away, then pulled close as Cas sobs into his shoulder. Dean’s not even sure he’s awake.

“Cas.”

No response.

“Cas, wake up!”

Castiel draws away from him, blinking in confusion. “Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“What’s going on?” Sam asks muzzily from the other bed.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep, Sammy.”

But Sam sits up. “Cas, you OK?”

“I am fine,” Castiel assures him.

“Like hell you are!”

Sam gets up and comes to sit on the edge of their bed. “Bad dream?”

“I am not sure. I was back in the battle, feeling…feeling Jimmy die again…”

Dean tightens his hold on him, as Sam climbs into the bed behind Castiel, wrapping his arms around him. “It’s OK, Cas,” Sam whispers.

Castiel shakes his head. “It is not. Jimmy was all I had. Now I am alone.”

Dean feels a surge of empathy go through him. “You’re not alone!” he says fiercely.

“Yeah, you’ve got us,” Sam says.

Castiel turns to look at him. “I do?”

Sam smiles. “Yeah, sure. What, you think we’re gonna kick you to the curb?”

“I…don’t know.”

“You don’t know us very well, then,” Dean says. “When you live our life there’s not too many people who can understand. You keep the ones who can close.”

“Go back to sleep, Cas,” Sam says, but rather than going back to his own bed he settles down with his head on Cas’ shoulder.

“What if I have another dream?”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got you.”

“Thank you, Sam.”

“Like Dean said, you keep the people who can understand close.”

Castiel finally relaxes and closes his eyes.

***

When he’s asleep, Sam asks, “What was all that about?”

“What was all what about?”

“That…I don’t even know. You’re not usually like that.”

“So what if I was?” Dean asks defensively.

“Hey, calm down, it’s fine! I was just surprised. Usually you don’t act like that with anyone but me.”

“You jealous?”

Sam snorts. “Of course not!” He props himself up to look at Castiel and Dean sees his face in the glow of the streetlight shining through the window. He’s looking at Cas like he’s something rare and precious. “I’m worried about him, Dean.”

Dean sighs. “Yeah, I know, me too. But like you said, we’ll handle it.”

Sam nods, his face growing determined. “Yeah.”

On an impulse, Dean grabs Sam’s hand and squeezes it. Sam squeezes back.

He falls asleep still holding Sam’s hand.

***

He wakes up to find Sam gone, and the shower running.

Castiel opens his eyes as Dean sits up. “What time is it?”

Dean groans. “Too early,” he says, and lies back down again, but Castiel’s getting out of bed. Dean groans again. “Bad enough my brother gets up at ass o’clock in the morning, now you want to join the dawn chorus.”

Sam comes out of the bathroom, wearing only a towel again, and this time Dean’s in shape to notice. He gives Sam a slow once-over before he thinks, and hopes he doesn’t notice. Just because Dean has lost all his morals doesn’t mean Sam has, and he can only imagine the conversation if he knew. Those “slash” people were bad enough.

“What are you doing up?” Sam asks.

“Ask _him_ ,” Dean growls. “As long as I’m up, I may as well shower.”

In the shower, he leans his head against the tile. He’s slipping. Between Sam and Castiel, and the fact that he hasn’t gotten laid for three months because of the freaking Apocalypse, Sam’s going to pick up on it. He doesn’t need to worry about Castiel, but Sam doesn’t miss much, at least when it comes to his brother.

He needs to do something to take the edge off.

He takes hold of his cock and starts stroking. He tries to keep his mind blank, but the image of Sam leaving the shower keeps intruding. He remembers the feel of Cas’ hand on his thigh and wonders what it would have felt like if he’d moved it, palmed him through his jeans…

He gives a muffled groan, tilting his head back and letting the water run over his face. He pictures Sam, rivulets of water trickling down his neck, along his chest and muscled abs and running into the towel around his waist, imagines the towel slipping down as his strokes grow faster…

And comes against the shower wall, panting hard. He takes a moment to collect himself, then sluices off and gets out of the shower.

***

He looks at his reflection before he leaves the bathroom, making sure there’s no sign of what he’d been doing. Not that this is the first time he or Sam jerked off in the shower; living the way they do, it's pretty much the only place they can get any privacy.

Deciding that Sam won’t be suspicious unless he acts guilty, Dean leaves the bathroom.

Ignoring Sam and Castiel, he rummages in his duffel for clothes that aren’t bloody, ripped, or otherwise unwearable. They need to go shopping, especially since Cas needs clothes of his own. As Cas goes into the bathroom Dean notices he’s got the start of a beard and decides not to say anything about it. It’s a good look for him, although thankfully he’s not constantly stoned now.

“We should call Bobby,” Sam says suddenly, moving to sit on the bed. Dean notices he’s not limping anymore; Cas must have fixed his ankle.

“You’re right,” Dean realizes. They’d told Bobby that they were going after Lucifer, in case they didn’t come back, and he was probably climbing the walls by now–at least metaphorically. He hadn’t been pleased to be left out of the fight, but he would only be a liability in something like that. Hopefully now that Cas had his mojo back, he could help him.

Dean takes out his cell-phone and pages through his contacts until he finds Bobby’s number.

Bobby picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Bobby?”

“Dean! You OK? What happened?”

“We’re all fine, more or less. Got banged up, but we stopped him. Lucifer’s dead.” He still doesn’t quite believe it, that the Apocalypse is _over._

“How the hell’d you boys manage that?”

Dean shrugs. “Honestly? Mostly luck. Look, we’re in Georgia now and we need to head out there anyway. Tell you about it when we get there."

“OK.”

“So we’re heading to Bobby’s?” Sam asks after Dean hangs up.

“Yeah. Hopefully Cas can do something to help him now that he’s not cut off from Heaven anymore.”

Sam nods, as Dean dials again. “Who you calling?”

“Chuck. He probably knows what happened, but I wanna call him anyway.”

The phone rings only once before it’s picked up. “Dean!” Chuck exclaims. “Is Cas OK?”

Despite the fact that he’d just said that Chuck would know what's going on, Dean blinks. “He’s…dealing. Sam and I are helping as best we can.”

“I don’t think anything like this has happened before; I’m not sure what will happen to him.”

“We’ll handle it,” Dean says.

“So you stopped him.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, running a hand through his slightly-damp hair. “We found the Colt–thank Becky by the way–and shot the bastard.”

“You and Sam OK?”

Dean shrugs. “Been worse. How about you, you have any trouble?”

Chuck snorts. “Yeah, a bunch of demons tried to invade my house. They didn’t last long.”

Remembering the encounters he’d had with Raphael, Dean nods. “I can believe it.”

“So what are you guys going to do now?”

“Dunno. Go back to hunting the small stuff, I guess. I don’t think we’ll have to deal with demons for awhile, but there’s other stuff still around.”

“Well take care of yourselves. Something happens to you and I’m out of a job.”

“Fuck you, Chuck,” Dean says, and Chuck laughs. “Listen, I figured you knew what happened already, but I just wanted to let you know we were OK.”

“Yeah. Thanks. And Dean, I meant that about taking care of yourselves.”

“Don’t we always?”

“Well…” Chuck begins. Dean rolls his eyes and hangs up on him.

Cas comes out of the shower just then, and for the second time that morning Dean has to remind himself not to stare, because _damn!_ “Pack up your wings, angel-boy, we’re going to Bobby’s!”

Cas looks thoughtful for a moment, then nods. “I believe I can be of some assistance to him.”

“That’s what I’d hoped. Get dressed.”

Sam and Dean pack up as the angel takes out his trenchcoat.

Dean raises a brow, looking at Sam. “How early were you up?”

“What?” Sam demands, glaring at him. “I couldn’t sleep, so I did laundry.”

“God, you’re weird.”

“And you wouldn’t have me any other way.” Sam grins, his dimple showing for the first time in what seems like forever, and Dean finds himself grinning back.

***

Once they’re on the road, Dean cranks up “Travelin’ Riverside Blues” until the windows are shaking. Sam grimaces but doesn’t comment.

“ _I know my baby if I see her in the dark. I said I know my rider if I see her in the dark…_ ”

Sam rolls his eyes.

“I do not understand this music!” Castiel shouts from the back seat.

Dean turns the volume down slightly. “Aw, man, c’mon. This is Zeppelin!”

“Zeppelin? I fail to see the relevance of balloons to–”

Dean cuts him off with a groan. “OK, first chance we get I’m giving you a crash course in music. _Decent_ music, not that shit he listens to!”

“Hey!” Sam protests. “There’s nothing wrong with Blue October!”

“ _I'm goin' to Rosedale, take my rider by side. Anybody argue with me man, I'll keep them satisfied,_ ” Dean sings, ignoring his brother and cranking up the volume again.

***

They stop at motels along the way, and invariably Castiel wakes up crying. During the day he's the same as always, but at night he can’t sleep because of the dreams. Both nights they end up squashed together in one bed before morning, however awkward Dean finds that. It’s not unpleasant…but that’s the problem.

When they pull up to the junkyard in late afternoon of the third day out Dean shoots a look at Castiel. “You sure you can heal him?”

The angel nods. “I am sure.”

“So long as you’re sure. Bobby’s had enough disappointments.”

They pull their bags out of the trunk and head up to the door. Dean and Sam dump their stuff on the doorstep and Dean knocks.

There’s no answer for so long Dean starts to get worried, but then the door opens to reveal Bobby in his wheelchair.

Before any of them can say anything Bobby holds out a glass of water. “Drink.”

“Bobby, come on, we’re not demons,” Dean protests.

“Then you won’t mind drinking.”

Dean sighs and takes a gulp of the holy water, then hands it to Sam.

“Satisfied?” he snaps, after Sam has drunk.

Bobby nods at Castiel. “Him too.”

“Bobby, don’t you think that’s taking it a little far?” Sam asks.

Bobby’s eyes harden. “Him too.”

Sam sighs and hands Castiel the glass. The angel drinks, and holds it out to Bobby.

Bobby takes it without apology, wheeling back into the house. “So tell me what happened.”

“Not just yet,” Sam says, nodding to Castiel.

Without a word, Castiel lays his hand on Bobby’s shoulder. “Stand up.”

“I can’t walk anymore,” Bobby protests.

“You can now. Stand up.”

Looking doubtful, Bobby puts weight on his legs and stands up. He stumbles slightly, until Castiel steadies him.

Bobby stares down at his legs, then at Castiel, then back at his legs. “It’s like it never happened.”

“You are welcome,” Castiel says, a small smile on his face.

Bobby looks down at the wheelchair and kicks it, then wheels it out to the junkyard, sending it crashing into the fence. “I’ll smash the damn thing up tomorrow.”

Sam suddenly yawns wide enough to be in danger of splitting his head in half. “Sorry, Bobby.”

“You boys’ve been driving all day, of course you’re tired. I got your room ready, but there’s only two beds.”

“That’s fine,” Dean says. “We’ve been sharing beds in the motels.”

If Bobby thinks that’s strange, he doesn’t comment. “Well, go get some rest. I’m gonna make dinner.”

They drag themselves upstairs and dump their stuff. Dean really is exhausted. Cas might have healed his leg and his ribs, and they might have switched off driving, but so much has happened in the past few days that he’s still processing.

Sam and Cas fall into one bed, leaving Dean the other, and he’s asleep in seconds.

***

They’re woken up by Bobby pounding on the door. “You interested in dinner, or you wanna keep sleeping?”

Dean gets up and opens the door. “Think who you’re talking to.”

Bobby grins. “Come on, then.”

They slouch back downstairs, and Dean smells barbecued ribs. “Remind me to nominate you for sainthood,” he tells Bobby.

There’s not only ribs but mashed potatoes and corn on the cob. Bobby keeps quiet as Sam and Dean pile their plates full.

“Eat,” Dean tells Cas, when he looks uncertainly at the food.

“What is it?”

“Pork ribs,” Bobby says. “Now eat or I’m gonna be insulted.”

Castiel doubtfully takes some food, and looks at Dean to see how he’s supposed to eat it. Dean looks away from Cas gnawing on the ribs, but catches sight of Sam licking his fingers out of the corner of his eye. He barely represses a groan. _This is gonna be a long meal._

Bobby lets them eat in peace for a few minutes before he says, “So you gonna tell me what happened?”

Sam and Dean take turns telling him about finding the Colt and defeating Lucifer. Castiel is silent throughout the recitation.

“So we got rid of Lucifer, but Anna’s dead, and so is Jimmy,” Dean finishes quietly.

“But…wait, if Jimmy’s gone, where does that leave you?” Bobby asks Castiel.

“I do not know.” Castiel gets up from the table. “Thank you for the dinner, Bobby, but I am tired.”

As he disappears, Bobby asks, “He OK?”

“No,” Sam says. “He’s been having nightmares since it happened.”

Bobby winces. “What’s he even still doing here? Why hasn’t he gone home?”

Dean shrugs. “He said he wanted to stick around.”

“He doesn’t want to leave us alone,” Sam says suddenly.

“What?” Dean asks. This is news to him.

“I talked to him some, that first night. He’s worried about what will happen to us without him around.”

“We got along fine without him before!” Dean protests.

Sam sighs. “I know, but with Jimmy gone we’re all he’s got. I get the feeling he wasn’t too popular with the other angels, except for Anna.”

“And Anna’s dead too,” Dean sighs, another stab of grief going through him.

“Keep an eye on him,” Bobby says. “God only knows what he’ll do.”

“We will,” Sam says. “And I really think we should go to bed too.”

Bobby nods. “Sleep well.”

“I hope so.”

***

Castiel’s curled up in bed facing the wall when they get upstairs, but he’s still awake. “You OK, Cas?” Sam asks.

“I am fine.”

“No you’re not,” Dean says softly. “And you need to admit it.”

Sam raises a brow at him, but Dean ignores him.

“I don’t know what to do,” Castiel whispers, and Dean moves over and puts an arm around him. “I keep remembering Jimmy dying, hearing him in my head, screaming…” He shudders, tears leaking out of his eyes, and Sam moves behind him and rubs his back.

“It’ll get easier,” he says. “I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but it will get easier.”

“But he was killed by a demon. I don’t know where he is; he could be in Hell.”

“He’s not,” Dean says. “Jimmy was a good guy; even if a demon killed him he wouldn’t end up in Hell.”

“But you don’t _know_ that.”

Dean sighs. “No, you’re right. I don’t.”

“Look, Cas, just try to get some sleep, OK?” Sam says.

“Not by myself?” Cas asks, the expression in his eyes so lost Dean feels his heart break a little.

Sam shakes his head. “No, not by yourself.” Castiel sighs, and lies down again.

Sam and Dean get changed and lie down on either side of him. It takes a long time for Cas to fall asleep, and Dean stays awake even longer, staring at the ceiling.

“Stop it.”

Dean raises his head and looks at his brother. “Stop what?”

“Stop _thinking!_ You’re keeping me awake.”

“Well, ex- _cuse_ me,” Dean snaps.

“Dean. Something’s bugging you. What is it?”

Dean groans mentally. He knows Sam in this mood; he won’t let it go. Still, he tries. “It’s nothing.”

“Dean, I would be perfectly happy to let you pretend nothing’s wrong, if you weren’t driving me nuts sighing every five seconds.”

Dean sighs again and settles for part of the truth. “I’m worried about him.” No need to clarify which ‘him’ he means.

“But that’s not all it is.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“No.” Dean sighs. “He’s…I don’t even know. I mean when I first met him he was a bastard, but now…”

“You care about him,” Sam says quietly.

“Well, yeah, sure I care about him, who wouldn’t!” Dean says, unable to keep from getting defensive.

“No, I mean you _care_ about him.”

Dean buries his face in the pillow, not answering.

“It’s OK.”

 _What?_ He’d have expected Sam to freak out about this, at least a little, and he’s so surprised he resorts to smart-ass comments. “Since when do I need your approval for a relationship, _Sammy?_ ”

Sam sighs. “You don’t. Not that you’ve really had a relationship before.”

That’s true; moving all the time means they can’t have long-term relationships. “You don’t care that I’m…”

“What? Bi? No. Who you sleep with is your choice. Not that I’m surprised.”

“What do you mean?” Since Sam came back he’d been careful not to pick up guys.

Sam smirks. “You like sex too much to limit yourself to women.”

Dean laughs softly, then sobers. “But Cas is…he’s different.”

“Yeah I know.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. He wouldn’t be interested, and even if he was, he’s been through so much shit lately that I don’t want to add to it.”

“What makes you think he wouldn’t be interested?” Sam asks curiously.

“C’mon, Sammy. He’s an _angel_. Sodom and Gomorrah ring a bell?”

“You could ask him.”

Dean snorts. “Like hell! I don’t want to get smited…smote…”

“Smitten,” Sam says.

“Have I mentioned you’re a geek?”

“Not today. Seriously, dude, you should tell him.”

“I’m not gonna tell him!” Dean snaps. “And you better not either or you’ll _wish_ I’d put Nair in your shampoo!”

Sam sighs. “OK, whatever, I won’t tell him.”

“Promise?”

“ _Yes_ , I promise! Now will you stop angsting and _sleep?_ ”

“Fine.” He lies back down, trying to relax. Nothing’s really been resolved, though. Even if Sam doesn’t care if he’s bi, he sure as fuck would care if he knew how Dean was thinking about him. He pushes it out of his mind and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night, Sammy.”

***

He keeps thinking about it over the next couple days. He’ll never have Sam, not the way he wants him, but he could, maybe, have Cas.

So one evening, three days after they got to Bobby’s, he says, “So Cas, you thought any more about picking up a girl?”

The angel sighs. “As I said Dean, I do not want to merely ‘get laid.’ And I do not want a relationship based on a lie.”

“What if it wasn’t?” Dean asks. “Based on a lie. What if they knew the truth about you?”

“But no one knows the truth about me, and they would likely believe me unbalanced if I told them.”

“ _We_ know,” Dean points out, resolutely not looking at Sam, who’s pretending to look for something in his bag.

Castiel doesn’t say anything for a moment, but then he nods. “However, since you are a…‘ladies man’…and Samuel is celibate–”

“I am not!” Sam protests indignantly, flushing.

“When was the last time you got laid?” Dean asks, and when Sam only looks mutinous, he smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

“–the point is moot,” Castiel finishes.

Dean jerks his mind back to the conversation. _Wait a sec, he didn’t freak out at the idea, he only thought we weren’t interested._ “What if…one of us was interested in…in a relationship?”

“Or both of us,” Sam puts in.

Dean gapes at his brother. “ _What?!_ ”

Sam ignores him. “So how about it Cas? Would you have any objections?”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on a sec here,” Dean says. “Where did this come from?”

Sam glares at him. “What, I’m not allowed?”

“Well…yeah, but…I mean if we were both in a relationship with him it would mean we were in a relationship with each other!”

“And your point is?”

“But…but it’s _incest,_ ” Dean sputters, wondering whether a demon had gotten to Sam.

Sam nods.

“It’s taboo in practically every culture in the world!” he continues frantically, trying to talk some sense into his brother.

Sam shrugs. “Yeah, but it’s not like we haven’t broken rules before. Why do you have a problem with the idea?”

 _I…don’t. But you should!_ Then Dean remembers that when they met Chuck Sam had seemed more amused at the “slash” than anything. He hadn’t realized it at the time, being too busy freaking out because _they knew._

“Besides, a lot of royalty marry their family.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s like third cousins once removed or something, not _siblings!_ ”

“Dean.”

Dean jumps at the angel’s voice. He’d almost forgotten he was there. “What?”

“While it is true that incest is taboo, there are reasons for it.”

Dean’s eyes narrow. “Such as?”

“One is the fact that children of such unions will not be healthy, especially if it is common practice in the family. Another is the fact that there is a betrayal of trust if a parent or relative seduces a child in their care. You and Samuel would have neither of those problems.”

“It’s Sam,” Sam repeats, but as if he’s doing it for the form of the thing.

“So…what, we wouldn’t get in trouble for it?” Dean asks, flicking his eyes upward.

Castiel shrugs a shoulder. “If it is not hurting anyone, I do not think so.”

“So what’s your problem, Dean?” Sam asks.

“You’re my _brother!_ ”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Yes, I _know_ that, Dean!”

“No, I mean you’re my _little_ brother! I’m supposed to look out for you!”

Sam rolls his eyes again. “Dean, I’m an adult. I haven’t needed you looking out for me for years!”

Dean’s about to debate that–after all, if Sam had been fine on his own, the Apocalypse wouldn’t have happened–but Sam continues, “Have you seriously never thought about it?”

“That’s not the point!”

“I think it is.”

“Alright, _fine,_ I’ve thought about it, OK?! Happy now?”

Sam huffs out a breath and approaches him, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

When Sam kisses him, it takes a moment to sink in, then Dean moves to push him away, but ends up fisting his hands in Sam’s shirt and pulling him closer instead. Sam licks into his mouth and Dean moans, kissing him back, still thinking this is too good to be true.

Sam pulls away and smiles, and reaches out a hand towards Castiel. The angel comes over and Sam kisses him too. Dean closes his eyes at the sight, then opens them again, burning the image into his memory.

He pulls Sam away and kisses him again, then kisses Castiel.

It’s clumsy, but Cas gets the idea soon enough, as Dean fumbles to unknot his tie and pull it off.

He feels hands stroking his back, pulling his overshirt off then twitching underneath his tee. He pulls back from Cas’ lips long enough for Sam to remove the shirt, beginning to unbutton Castiel’s own shirt.

“Starting tomorrow,” he growls. “You’re wearing T-shirts.”

The angel’s laugh dissolves into a moan as Dean latches onto his throat, his hands pushing the shirt away, fingers flicking over his nipples.

Dean feels arms around his back, and a naked chest presses against him. Sam grinds against his ass, and he’s _definitely_ interested.

Then Sam spins him around and drops to his knees, his hands moving to the button of Dean’s jeans and Dean makes a soft sound which is certainly _not_ a whimper and thrusts toward him.

Sam pulls his jeans and boxers down, and curses the fact that Dean wears boots, before abandoning them to take Dean in his mouth.

“ _Fuck_ yeah, Sammy,” Dean groans, his knees buckling, but Cas holds him up, as Dean’s fingers fist in Sam’s hair.

Sam’s methodical about it, sucking Dean’s cock for a few moments before pulling back to lick along the underside, nosing at his balls, then laying a kiss on the tip.

Sam sucks him back down again as Cas licks behind his ear, his hands running over Dean’s chest and sides.

Dean pushes back against Castiel’s cock and forward into Sam’s mouth, taking one hand from Sam’s hair to clutch at Cas’ side.

It’s too much–his senses are overloading, and he pulls Sam off him with an obscene _pop._

At Sam’s raised eyebrow Dean says, “Didn’t want to come yet.”

Sam nods, and as Dean goes to the bed to unlace his boots, he moves over to Cas, putting his hands down the angel’s pants and squeezing his ass.

Dean tosses his jeans aside as Sam pulls Cas’ pants off. Cas reaches forward, his hands in Sam’s jeans, opening them and Sam groans. “Fuck, Cas…”

Cas eases Sam’s jeans down and reaches into his briefs and Sam throws his head back and bucks his hips forward. Cas pulls his briefs down and wraps his hand around Sam’s cock and Sam makes a noise like he’s in pain, only Dean knows he’s not, not from the expression on his face. His hand comes up to cover Cas’, showing him how to move.

Dean gets up and moves behind Castiel, running his hands over his back, stroking his shoulderblades and when he does Cas’ shoulders twitch up and he whimpers, grinding into Sam.

“OK?” Dean whispers into Castiel’s hair, and he nods breathlessly. Dean scratches over Cas’ shoulders and Cas positively _keens,_ bucking forward into Sam again.

Sam pulls away from Cas’ hand and pulls his pants down, falling to his knees, taking hold of Cas’ cock and mouthing at the head.

Cas whimpers again and Dean leans over to whisper in his ear, “God you’re so hot. Wanna fuck you Cas, please. I’ll make it good, let me fuck you.”

Castiel nods, licking his lips, and pulls away from Sam’s mouth with obvious effort. Dean pulls out his wallet and gets out a condom, putting it on as Sam and Cas move over to the bed, their hands and mouths running over each other.

Dean rummages in his bag until he finds the lube and moves back over to the bed. He lies down behind Castiel and opens the lube, squirting it on the fingers of his right hand. With his left he strokes Cas’ ass, spreading the cheeks, and runs a finger down the crack of his ass. Cas’ breath hitches and he whispers, “Dean.”

“Shh, it’s OK, just relax,” Dean soothes him. Sam’s moved down again to gnaw on Cas’ hipbone, licking and sucking until there’s sure to be a bruise tomorrow and stroking him slowly.

He presses a finger into Cas, and it’s obvious he’s never been fucked before. Cas hisses and moves away, but Dean rubs his other hand over his shoulder and he shudders and relaxes.

Dean surprises himself with his patience, moving one finger in and out slowly until Cas is thrusting back against him and then adding a second finger, slowly moving them in, giving Cas time to adjust. He scissors his fingers, working Cas open slowly, trying to find his prostate.

When he does, Cas gasps in shock and presses forward into Sam’s hand.

Dean can’t help chuckling evilly. “Oh, just wait, it gets better.”

He keeps going, stretching him out, despite the little breathless noises Castiel’s making that make him want to just thrust in. When Cas is open enough for him to fit four fingers inside he removes them and slowly pushes into him.

“Fuck, Cas…” he groans. “God you’re so _tight,_ so hot…”

He has to stop to keep himself from coming right there. Castiel’s panting hoarsely, and Dean can’t see what Sam’s doing, but every so often Cas clenches around him, which isn’t helping his self-control.

Finally he pulls out and buries himself again, and Cas moans and pushes back against him. Dean reaches around and takes hold of Cas’ cock and Sam’s hand covers his.

Dean closes his eyes, thrusting into Cas over and over, until he can’t hold back his orgasm any longer and he _bites_ into Cas’ shoulder as he comes, and Cas clenches around him and comes all over Dean’s hand.

He pulls out slowly, as Cas whimpers, and whispers, “You OK?”

Cas just shakes his head, panting.

Dean grins. “Damn, I am _good._ ”

Sam snorts, and Dean looks over to see him stroking himself. “Little help here?”

Dean climbs over Castiel with some difficulty and takes Sam in his mouth with no warning.

“Jesus _Christ!_ ” Sam gasps, his hands coming up to fist in Dean’s hair as he uses every trick he ever learned to take Sam apart.

With everything they’ve already done, it’s not long until Sam’s coming down his throat. Dean works him through it, then pulls off. He moves up to kiss Sam again, then lies down. They’re going to have to clean up soon, but he doesn’t feel like moving.

Cas is sitting up, and Dean grins at him. “Well? Not bad for your first sexual experience, huh?”

Cas stares at him, then laughs softly. “You could say that.”

He gets out of the bed, finds his pants and takes something out of the pocket. “I’ve been meaning to give this back to you.”

Dean stares at the necklace, the one Sam gave him so long ago, the one he’d felt naked without since he’d given it to Cas. He puts it on, choking up as he feels the familiar cold weight against his chest. “Thanks, Cas.”

Lying back down, he realizes that he still has to take care of Sam, and Cas too, but they’ll be taking care of him in return, and he smiles at the thought.


End file.
